


Parental Bounty Hunters Anonymous

by Chordae



Series: Din Djarin’s Guide To Fatherhood and All the Existential Crises Inbetween [5]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: ManDadlorian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:55:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22072879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chordae/pseuds/Chordae
Summary: Somehow, someway, he got himself into this mess: surrounded by fellow bounty hunters in their sad excuse of a share circle as they gush and rant about their children.
Series: Din Djarin’s Guide To Fatherhood and All the Existential Crises Inbetween [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1586989
Comments: 13
Kudos: 334





	1. Of Meetings and Mayhem

_ “You may want to check the enclosed location out,”  _ Greef said, handing a tracking fob to Din. Cara had stood next to him, grimly nodding.  _ “It will be of great use to you.”  _ He had continued.

_ “It’d be for the best.”  _ Cara had agreed, grave and serious.

Now, Din stands at the threshold of the compound, guns-a-blazing and the kid left aboard the ship. He may or may not be a bit confused. 

He blinks once, then twice, then settles with the fact that he had got played.

A group of people, aliens, humans, and humanoids alike, sit in- what he presumes to be- a share circle. They’re all armed to their teeth, garbed in armor of all sorts, and chatter away at one another.

One of the people turn towards Din, likely catching onto the sound of his whirring blasters. It’s an Abednedo, Din faintly recognizes, and it perks up at the sight of Din.

“Ah!” She exclaims, then turns back to the group. “The Mandolorian has arrived! Welcome, Mando!”

The rest of the circle parrots back “Welcome, Mando!”, and Din is convinced that perhaps he had stumbled upon a cult gathering and that it would be best if he blew them all to pieces. Then he remembers that  _ he’d  _ probably be blown to pieces, considering the weaponry some of them have on their person.

Din holsters his weapons, then manages a lame wave.

“Come over, come over!” The Abednedo widely gestures from him to the open seat to her right. “We have so much to talk about!”

Din warily walks over then takes a seat.

“Now that we’re all here-“ She chitters, briefly nodding towards Din. “I welcome all of you to the monthly meeting of Parental Bounty Hunters Anonymous! I see some new faces, and some old, but I welcome you all the same.” She grins, and nods. “The primary reason for this meeting is to help inform those in similar predicaments such as ours.” She explains. “We’ll start the night off with introducing ourselves and our child or children, and then we’ll continue with group discussions.” She then raises her hand. “I’m Olo Ster and I’m raising my little girl, Poli.”

Din may or may not block everything out after that, because somehow,  _ someway,  _ he got himself into this mess: surrounded by fellow bounty hunters in their sad excuse of a share circle as they gush and rant about their children.

This only means that he’ll have to get Greef and Cara back, maybe put a bounty on both their heads, or maybe-

“Mando, it is your turn.” The alien to his right clicks at him, knocking Din from his revengeful reverie.

“I’m the Mandolorian and I’m raising my kid.” He manages, quick and easy.

Olo chatters something and almost looks  _ disappointed. _

“Ah, yes, we already knew that. What is  _ your _ name and  _ your _ _kid’s_ name, Mr. Mando?” Olo asks, sincere. “Nothing said here leaves here, for we’ve all sworn to secrecy.” Din faintly nods, and figures he may as well get it over with. “Go ahead.” Olo ushers.

“I’m Din Djarin and- well, I guess my kid doesn’t have a name.”

There’s a brief lapse of silence, then Olo speaks.

“Oh, well, thank you for sharing, Mr. Djarin-“

“What do you mean  _ your kid doesn’t have a name? _ ” A human from across from him asks, incredulous.

“He’s never told me it.” Din reasons, then remembers that the kid can’t really verbalize much of anything yet. “And I got him like that.”

“ _ Got him like that _ -“ The same human splutters, almost enraged.

“Ah, please calm down, everyone. We were supposed to share our names and our children’s names, and Mr. Mando did exactly that.” Olo hurries, gesturing for everyone to sit back down. “His business is his business alone, we’re just here to help.”

Din refrains from squirming in his seat, really not wanting to be here any longer.

“Anyways, since it seems that everyone is simply  _ jumping  _ at the chance to give you advice, Mr. Djarin, then let’s allow them, huh?” Olo grins at him. 

Immediately, arms and vaguely arm-things fly into the air. Olo calmly calls on one of them.

“If you don’t know your child’s birth name,” The sentient pile of slime warbles, “Then the least you can do is give him a nickname, Mr. Mando.” It nods its entire body. “That is what I did with my dear O’pet’ch’ka. It means ‘dear child’ in my language.”

Din actually finds that information quite useful, muttering out a ‘thanks’.

Olo calls on another bounty hunter.

“Bounty hunting is dangerous, so you’re gonna have to get your kid some armor, or at least teach him to protect himself.” A human informs him. Din would definitely be doing the latter, if the kid could go three steps without stumbling or falling down.

Din faintly nods, and Olo points to the last person with their hand up.

“Make sure you store enough food between pit stops. Kids differ between ravenously hungry and eating nearly nothing. Oh! Also, there’s a kind doctor on Tatooine who will help with any health inquiries for your kid, no questions asked, so if you ever need her address just come ask me!”

Olo smiles, then slightly nudges Din’s shoulder.

“Thank you all for your advice, and I’m sure Mr. Djarin appreciates it as well. Now, onto the next person, does anyone-“

Din is a bit baffled and would go as far to say that he’s  _ thankful  _ at the amount of useful information that he’s been given.

He lets the rest of the conversation flow over him, half-heartedly taking in any information he perceives as ‘useful’, and mentally trashes his revenge plans for Greef and Cara. He might as well send them a gift basket, at this point.


	2. Nicknames

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place after the PBHA meeting.  
> Din takes some advice into consideration.  
> (Pbft from ‘The Womp Rat and His Womp Rat’ has some a brief mentioning in this fic (it’s literally only one line), but you don’t have to read that in order to get the jist of it.)

In hindsight, it had been an obvious answer.

Din had made it a habit of talking to the kid in Standard, save for the scattered curses in Mando’a, and it had completely slipped his mind that he could refer to his kid as anything other than, well, ‘ _kid’_.

Perhaps _,_ he thinks, it was the fear of the kid having a real name, a name he hadn’t given him, or perhaps even the lingering fear of the kid’s _real_ family swooping in and taking the child that kept him wary and unable to give the kid a name.

Now that he has a clan, a real _family_ , he doesn’t want to let it go. It’s not as if the buried terror of losing the kid holds heavily to his heart enough, it’s just his luck that the thought of his kid _willingly_ leaving him that makes his internal panic double in size.

 _The kid no doubt had a real family before,_ he thinks, dumping the sand from his boots before boarding the ship. _The best I’m giving him is a replacement, if anything._

He enters the _Razor Crest,_ weary and exhausted beyond compare. Instead of the lingering ache of a good fight, his mind feels fuzzy and his eyes droop tiredly behind his helmet. Mental exhaustion holds a steady grip on his sluggish thoughts and he allows himself to sigh lightly, closing the entrance behind him.

He walks through the ship, his legs feeling as if someone had attached weights to them. An uncontrolled stagger down the cramped corridors, and he finds himself at the closed door of his quarters. With less than a thought, he opens the door and leans against the doorway of the quarters, gaze falling to the sleeping kid.

His tiny nose twitches in his sleep, ears absently flicking every now and then. He’s curled up, seemingly smaller than his already faint size, tiny claws dug into the blankets that cocoon him as he rests on Din’s (or, well, _their_ ) bed. Pbft, in all her womp rat-ishness, quietly squeaks in her sleep, feet kicking out beneath her as she dreams of eating trash and chewing wires.

 _-But,_ he thinks, hopeful, _The remnant of the Empire was after him, so surely there’s no one out there? I’m probably the best bet the kid’s got._

Then Din faintly realizes that, _no,_ he’s a bounty hunter, not a nurturing parent, so he’s really not the prime example of ‘the best’ thing a kid could have.

-But he can sure as hell try.

(If not for himself, then for the kid.)

The kid, as if sensing his parent’s mental unease, blinks awake, eyes foggy as he stares up at Din. He groggily sits up, the blankets covering him in an enormous cloak and pooling around him on the mattress, a waterfall of thinning fabric and matted furs.

“Da.” The kid croaks, voice rough from sleep, a small smile playing at the edge of his lips. The kid wiggles one of his hands out from beneath the blanket, thin claws making grabbing motions towards Din.

The Mandalorian crosses the room and easily takes a seat next to his kid on the mattress, careful not to jostle him too much.

The kid clambers over and onto his lap, usually wide eyes half-lidded in exhaustion, then gently pushes on Din’s chest. Din easily complies, wrapped around his kid’s little claw, then lies back onto the mattress, the kid making himself comfortable against his chest.

Din’s aware of the awkward position he’s in, stiffly lying back against the mattress in a way his armor pokes and prods at him. He has half a mind to get back up and shed at least his chest plate, but the kid squirms against him for a moment, then is back out like a light.

Din considers it for a moment, thoughts heavy as he tentatively brings a hand to rest at the small of his kid’s back, adjusting the blankets so that he’ll stay warm. He runs the word over in his mind, testing it, feeling it heavy against his tongue.

“ _Ad’ika_ .” He murmurs, and although it feels awkward it also feels _right_ , and it may not be a name, may not even be a nickname, but it _feels_ **_right_ ** and that’s all that matters.

Din’s still for a moment, hand tense against the kid’s back, as if he’s unsure of the response he’ll get out of a _sleeping_ kid.

The kid’s ear flicks in his sleep, and a small smile curls on his mouth as he lets out a tiny sigh.

Relief floods Din, and he feels sleep overtake him, taking his lingering moments of consciousness to memorize the peaceful expression on his kid’s sleeping face.

They’ll be alright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eh I dunno sorry that what I’ve been pumping out has been high-key shitty

**Author's Note:**

> I think I’ll do a few more chapters that branch off of this one. I’ll update this one every now and then, but I’m still posting more fics to the series as a whole.  
> The next chapter of this fic is titled, ‘Nicknames’, so that’s a dead giveaway. The next fic in the series is titled ‘No Lightsabers in the Cockpit, Please’, so ;).


End file.
